Chapter Text
In the softly lit chamber of Rhaella Targaryen, the youngest scion of a storied dynasty, the night whispered tales of dragons and heroes through the flicker of candlelight. Her bedroom, a cocoon of royal comfort and childlike wonder, was adorned with the gentle hues of lavender and soft blues, representing the sea and sky of her ancestral Dragonstone. Delicate tapestries depicting mythical creatures and Targaryen victories adorned the walls, each thread shimmering subtly under the soft glow of a crystal chandelier.
The centerpiece, a grand bed carved from pale ash wood, bore the sigil of the Targaryen dragon, its claws intricately winding around the posts. Plush, violet bedcovers, soft as clouds and embroidered with silver threads, billowed around Rhaella, enveloping her in warmth and the faint scent of lilacs—her mother's favorite.
Jon Snow, the somber king with a weight of the world resting upon his shoulders, sat beside his daughter, his rugged face softened in the candlelight. He was perched on the edge of the bed, with Rhaella, snug under the expansive covers, her wide violet eyes fixed on her father as he turned the pages of her favorite bedtime story—a tale of a brave knight overcoming great odds to save his kingdom.
As the final words of the story hung in the air, Rhaella's small face transformed into a pout, her lower lip quivering slightly as Jon closed the book. "Again, papa, please?" she begged, her voice a melody of innocence.
Jon chuckled softly, shaking his head, "Not tonight, my little dragon. It's time for sleep."
But Rhaella's mind was elsewhere, curiosity piqued by something she had witnessed. "Papa," she ventured timidly, "what game do muna and Ser Bear play?" Her brow furrowed in genuine curiosity.
Jon paused, his heart skipping a beat. "A game? Like cyvasse?" he queried, attempting to mask the sudden surge of concern with a light tone.
Rhaella shook her head, her silver-gold curls dancing with the movement. "No, every day when you're gone, they always play a game together." Her voice was soft, and she seemed unable to read the storm brewing over her father's features.
Jon's face remained impassive, a mask of composure, but his mind raced. "Is this a game you play together, the three of you?" he asked, steadying his voice.
"Not always," Rhaella replied, a trace of confusion in her tone. "Mama is always tired whenever they play. And Missy is always angry at them. Why is that, papa?"
Jon turned his gaze away momentarily, his heart heavy, then back at the innocent eyes of his daughter. "Perhaps I'll tell you one day, my love. Now, it's time to sleep." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, the gesture laden with protective love.
As he stood and walked towards the door, he paused, looking back at the small figure now dwarfed by the expanse of her bed. "Sweetie, you shouldn't play with your mother and Ser Jorah when I'm away, okay?"
"Why not?" Rhaella's voice carried a mix of curiosity and disappointment.
"Just do as I say, alright?" Jon's voice was firm yet gentle.
"Okay, kepa," she replied, her voice timid.
"Good girl. Good night," Jon added with a soft smile, masking the turmoil inside.
"Good night, kepa," came the soft echo, as the candles flickered, casting long shadows across the tapestries of dragons and the ghosts of a dynasty's past.
Jon's thoughts were tumultuous as he made the short journey from his daughter's chambers to the grandeur of his own royal quarter. The quiet echoes of Rhaella's innocent questions reverberated in his mind, his steps heavy with a father's worry. The corridor, usually a place of solace, seemed to tighten around him with each step, the flickering torches casting long shadows that danced mockingly on the stone walls.
As he approached his chamber, the figure of Ser Jorah Mormont, clad in chainmail and leather, loomed in the dim light—a stark contrast to the dignified man he had once known at the Wall. The familiar nod from Jorah did little to ease the storm brewing within Jon.
Jon paused, his icy gaze locking onto Jorah. "Comfortable, Ser? Need a pillow or perhaps a feather bed to ease your time?" His voice dripped with cold sarcasm.
Jorah, taken aback, stood abruptly, confusion etched across his rugged features. "Your Grace?" he queried, his voice laced with uncertainty.
"I tasked you with the protection of my wife and child. Have you been diligent, Ser?" Jon's tone was sharp, a knife-edge of accusation slicing through the air.
Stammering, Jorah began, "I- I... I'm sorry if I—"
"So why are you lounging here as if you're in a whorehouse waiting for your turn?" Jon interrupted, his voice stern.
"Forgive me, Your Grace," Jorah murmured, chastened.
"Then stand and do your job!" Jon barked. The command seemed foreign coming from his lips, yet it ignited a spark of satisfaction within him.
Jorah straightened up, his gaze shifting away, as Jon turned on his heel and pushed open the door to his chambers. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with unspoken words. The bed was conspicuously empty, though the candles still burned, their flames flickering like the pulse of his rising anger.
His wife, Daenerys, stood on the balcony, her silhouette framed by the moonlight. Her form was delicate, the curve of her pregnancy more pronounced against the night sky. "Jon?" she called, her voice a mix of beauty and betrayal, turning to him with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Something wrong?”
Jon's emotions churned like a stormy sea. Images of violence flickered through his mind—pushing her, striking her, the stone balustrade a silent accomplice. Yet, he quashed these dark whispers with the discipline that had seen him through countless battles.
"Nothing… just tired," he replied, mustering a smile as hollow as the echoing corridors outside. He stepped beside her on the balcony, where he normally would have embraced her, feeling the warmth of her body, reassuring himself of her presence. Tonight, however, he kept a deliberate distance, his hands clenching at his sides.
As Daenerys's frown deepened, sensing the coldness in his demeanor, Jon struggled to maintain his composure. The night air felt sharp, as if cutting through the facade each of them wore. His heart heavy, he stared out into the darkness, wondering how the distance between them had grown so vast.
Dany's voice wavered in the cold night air, a delicate tremor that could have been mistaken for concern. "Jon, what's wrong?"
Jon remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the swirling darkness mirroring the turmoil within. He leaned against the cold stone of the balustrade, a barrier as much physical as emotional. "How’s our babe doing?" he asked, his voice flat, avoiding her gaze.
"The babe is fine, Jon. I heard yelling in the corridor—"
"Would you ever betray me?" he interrupted sharply, cutting through her words like a sword through silk.
Dany's eyes widened, hurt flickering across her features. "Why would you even say that?" she countered, her voice laced with a mix of shock and sadness.
Jon's thoughts raced. That’s not a no, he mused inwardly, though he kept his face impassive, his gaze steady, waiting for her genuine response.
With a vehement shake of her head, Dany asserted, "No! Of course not," her conviction seeming to waver like a candle in the wind.
Lies, Jon thought bitterly. Yet, he suppressed the urge to confront her further. Not now, not with their child—his child or not—growing inside her. The safety of the babe was paramount, regardless of his personal turmoil.
"Just checking," he muttered with a feigned smile, his expression strained as he forced a semblance of normalcy. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek gently, the warmth of her skin stark against the cold bite of the air. Pulling her close, he enveloped her in an embrace, the act bittersweet, filled with the tension of unsaid words and unshed tears.
In the luscious greenery of the royal gardens, Missandei and young Princess Rhaella frolicked under the vigilant eyes of the palace guards. Laughter filled the air as they played hide and seek among the ornately trimmed hedges of the maze-like garden. After their energetic escapades, they settled under a sprawling willow for some respite, where Missandei took the opportunity to teach Rhaella a few phrases in Valyrian, hoping to engrave these light-hearted moments into the girl’s memory.
However, the innocence of the day was about to be overshadowed by an unforeseen incident that would imprint a very different memory.
As they wrapped up their session, Missandei led Rhaella back towards the keep, their path taking them through the courtyard. As they neared, a peculiar sound grew louder—a rhythmic slapping, an unmistakable sigh of concealed pleasure. Curiosity piqued yet cautious, Missandei quickened her pace, but it was too late to avoid what was unfolding above them.
On the second-floor balcony, exposed to the elements, were Daenerys and Ser Jorah, entwined in a carnal display of raw, unfiltered passion. Ser Jorah was pressing fervently into Daenerys from behind, gripping her hips tightly as he thrust with animalistic intensity. Daenerys, biting down on her lip, attempted to muffle her moans, which spilled out nonetheless, resonant and heated.
As the coupling grew more fervent, Daenerys leaned back into Jorah, her moans becoming more unrestrained, echoing across the stone courtyard. Her breasts, swollen from her pregnancy, bounced with each of Jorah’s relentless thrusts, and her untied hair flailed wildly, accentuating the primal nature of their union.
Caught in a mix of shock and dismay, Missandei's gaze was torn from the lascivious scene by a small, innocent voice at her side. "Muna?" Rhaella inquired, a naive question laced with confusion. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Missandei's protective instincts surged. She quickly diverted the young girl's attention, steering her away from the disgraceful spectacle, her own heart sinking with disappointment and betrayal at the sight of her queen's indiscretion.
As they moved briskly away, the sounds of unchecked passion faded behind them, replaced by the heavy silence of a secret now shared unwillingly. Missandei’s mind raced, pondering the implications of what Rhaella had just witnessed and the stains it might leave on her young, impressionable psyche.
An hour after their public display, Daenerys and Jorah had retreated to the sanctuary of their private quarters, their desire for each other far from satiated. Now alone, they lay in bed, the atmosphere thick with a musty haze of spent passions. The room was heavy with the scent of their mingled sex, a raw and intoxicating fragrance that permeated the air.
The bed creaked rhythmically under the urgency of their movements. Daenerys was on her side, her luminous skin glowing in the dim light, with Jorah positioned snugly behind her. His thrusts were deep and frantic, driven by a carnal need that seemed to grow with each passing moment.
Daenerys let out soft, breathy moans, each one spurring Jorah on further. She had her hand tightly bunched in his hair, pulling him closer, her grip tightening with their increasing tempo. Jorah's arm was wrapped securely around her expansive belly, his other hand cupping her full breasts, squeezing gently in rhythm with his thrusts.
"Jorah... fuck, right there... Don’t stop," Daenerys gasped, her voice husky with desire. "I love feeling your cock deep inside me. Come for me, Jorah. Fill me up," she urged him, her words dripping with fervor.
Jorah groaned directly into her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "Dany, I... I can’t hold it... Fuck..."
Their bodies were slick with sweat, sliding against each other as they moved towards a mutual climax. The tension in the room built to an almost unbearable level, the only sounds the slapping of skin, the creaking of the old bed, and their labored breathing.
With a few more deep, powerful thrusts, Jorah reached his limit. "Dany!" he cried out, his voice thick with satisfaction as he released inside her, his body shuddering against hers.
Daenerys moaned loudly, a sound of pure pleasure that echoed off the walls. "Yes, Jorah! Yes!" she exulted, reveling in the sensation of him filling her, the deep connection sparking a fiery pleasure that radiated through her entire body.
As they lay there, panting and entwined, the afterglow enveloped them, a sweaty, satisfied calm settling over the room. They were lost in each other, the world outside their fervent embrace momentarily forgotten.
In the aftermath of their intense release, Daenerys turned around to face Jorah, their breaths still heavy, their bodies slick with the sheen of exertion. His semi-hard cock slipped from her warmth, and they locked eyes, a tangible electricity still crackling between them.
Their lips crashed together, hungry yet tender, indulging in the taste of each other. Their tongues danced, dueling lazily, languid sweeps mingling salty sweat with the remnants of their earlier fervor. The kiss was deep and filthy, open-mouthed and wet, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths with a fervor that belied their physical exhaustion.
Daenerys’ hands roamed over Jorah’s broad shoulders, tracing the scarred and battle-worn skin she had come to adore, her fingers digging into his muscled back. Jorah’s hands were equally busy, one hand cradling the back of Daenerys' head, fingers tangled in her silver-gold locks, while the other greedily squeezed her ass, pulling her closer, his fingertips digging into her soft flesh.
Their noses bumped clumsily as they deepened their kiss, a small chuckle breaking from Daenerys, her breath puffing against Jorah’s lips. The sound was muffled by another greedy kiss, their mouths sealed once more in a messy, saliva-mingling union.
In the dwindling light, they clung to each other, the world outside their intimate cocoon ceasing to exist as they savored the closeness, the taste, and the undeniable connection that kept them magnetically drawn to each other’s essence.
As their kisses lingered, Daenerys, feeling the burgeoning desire rekindle between them, playfully pushed Jorah down toward her chest. Her breasts were fuller now, swollen with the nourishment for her unborn child. With a teasing sparkle in her eye, she goaded him, "Careful, Jorah, don't drink it all—you wouldn't want to leave none for Maekar or the babe."
Jorah met her gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "There are always wet nurses for that," he retorted, lowering his mouth to her teats, beginning to suckle with a starved intensity.
He alternated between her nipples, greedily drawing out the milk, his actions both a sign of his carnal hunger and a deep, primal connection. The sensations sent sparks of pleasure through Daenerys, her fingers weaving into his hair, pushing his mouth deeper against her flesh. Jorah’s hands were fervent, mashing her breasts together, creating a plump offering from which he drank voraciously.
His tongue lashed at each nipple, flicking and swirling around them, drawing desperate moans from Daenerys. Each flick sent waves of pleasure through her body, anchoring her more deeply into the sensation. His saliva mingled with the milk, making her skin slick and damp, the wetness a testament to his thorough enjoyment.
The room was filled with the sound of sloppy sucking and Daenerys' moans, each one a chorus to the primal act unfolding. Jorah's eagerness, his utter abandonment to the act, stoked the forbidden fire inside her. It was an intimacy Jon had never ventured into, and this realization only fueled her desire further, making her clutch Jorah's head, guiding him with her hands, lost in the decadence of the moment.
After a moment teetering on the edge of overwhelming pleasure, Daenerys gently pushed Jorah away. Her eyes gleamed with a wild, unbridled passion as she slowly kissed her way down his rugged, scarred body. Each kiss was a soft fire, igniting the skin beneath her lips until she reached his groin.
Jorah's cock was fully erect, throbbing slightly with anticipation. Despite its modest size, the sight drove Daenerys's desire further. She wrapped her lips around him, taking him deep into her mouth until her lips touched the base of his pubes. The ease with which she swallowed him whole made Jorah groan loudly, the sound guttural and filled with raw need.
Daenerys alternated her technique expertly, transitioning from deepthroating to gently suckling on his balls, rolling them with her tongue before returning to take him deeply into her throat again. With each transition, Jorah's moans grew louder, more desperate.
Between her fervent sucks, Daenerys looked up at him, her eyes locked on his. "I love your cock, Jorah," she murmured huskily, before enveloping him again, her mouth warm and inviting. Her declaration seemed to fuel him even more, each moan a testament to the pleasure she bestowed.
Outside the ornate doors of the queen's chambers, a muffled commotion grew louder. Missandei's voice was distinct, her tone sharp and agitated as she argued with the guard about entering Daenerys's private room.
Inside, Daenerys, very aware of her friend's impending intrusion, took it as an illicit challenge. Her lips clung tighter around Jorah's shaft, her movements becoming frenzied, driven by the thrill of racing against time. The sloppy sounds of her sucking intensified—*schlick, schlick, gurgle*—her determination palpable.
Jorah, caught in the whirlwind of pleasure, groaned louder, barely able to keep his eyes open as Daenerys took him deeper, her head bobbing vigorously. "Gods, Dany..." he managed between ragged breaths, his hands gripping her hair, pushing her down onto him.
Just as Daenerys doubled her efforts, the door burst open, and Missandei stormed in. Without pausing, Daenerys worked even harder, sliding her mouth along Jorah's length with a voracious need—the sound of her lips and tongue a continuous pop, slurp, gulp. Her eyes briefly met Missandei's, defiant and unashamed.
"Daenerys! This is reckless—what if someone else had walked in?" Missandei's voice was shrill, filled with concern and disbelief as she watched her friend behave like a wanton woman lost in her carnal desires.
Ignoring Missandei’s protests, Daenerys's drive only heightened, pushing Jorah to the brink. His body tensed, a deep groan escaping him as he reached climax, his release filling her mouth. "Dany, I—I’m...," he stammered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his release.
Daenerys slowly pulled away, her lips glistening, satisfaction painting her face as she swallowed, showing Missandei that no lecture could dampen the fire she had stoked here today.
Daenerys licked her lips, a daring smile playing across her face as she deliberately wiped the remnants of Jorah's seed from his now flaccid cock, drawing it into her mouth with a pointed look towards Missandei. Her actions were clearly intended to provoke, and they did exactly that, as Missandei's expression twisted into one of even deeper disapproval.
"Jorah, get out," Missandei commanded sternly, her voice laden with authority and a hint of anger. Jorah, sensing the gravity of Missandei's mood and not daring to incite her further, quickly gathered his scattered clothes from the floor. He shimmied into his pants and threw on his tunic in a hurried manner, grabbing his boots as he prepared to leave.
Just as he reached the door, Missandei's hand flew out, connecting sharply with his cheek—a loud *smack* resounding in the room. Jorah took the slap silently, a resigned look on his face, accepting it as perhaps a deserved reprimand for the indiscretion.
"Missy!" Daenerys exclaimed, shocked by her friend's aggressive act.
"Don't 'Missy' me!" Missandei shot back sharply, her eyes flashing as Jorah exited the chamber, leaving the two women alone.
Daenerys, anticipating the extensive reprimand she was about to receive, reclined back against the plush pillows, her body still bare and shimmering slightly from the remnants of her previous activities. Her expression mixed with defiance and amusement, she looked up at Missandei, ready to face whatever scolding was coming her way.
Missandei, her features set in a stern, unyielding line, stood with her arms crossed, her disappointment perceptible in the tense silence that followed. The room was charged with an uneasy atmosphere, a stark contrast to the heated moments earlier. Daenerys, never one to back down easily, kept her gaze locked on Missandei, her posture relaxed yet audacious, fully aware of the chaos she had orchestrated.
Missandei's anger was palpable, her eyes flashing with indignation as she stared at Daenerys. "You said you were being careful!" she accused, her voice sharp.
Daenerys, the most powerful woman in the realm but not in this room, responded with what she thought was a reassuring smile. "We have been, Missy."
That response only seemed to fuel Missandei's fury. With a swift motion, she removed her slipper and flung it at Daenerys, who barely dodged it, her eyes wide with shock. The slipper hit the wall with a loud *thud*. Daenerys, though taken aback, could not hide a flicker of fear as she realized the depth of Missandei's anger.
"Rhaella saw you! On the balcony! She’s been asking questions about what you were doing!" Missandei's voice rose with each word, and she paced the room like a storm. "How am I supposed to explain this to her, Dany?"
Daenerys, trying to maintain her composure, retorted, "She's going to find out about these things eventually, Missy."
That response only seemed to inflame Missandei further. "And what if she speaks to Jon about it? What then, Dany?"
Daenerys, grasping at straws, murmured, "He won’t know. It won’t reach him."
This weak excuse did nothing but provoke Missandei into action once again. She grabbed her other sandal and started hitting Daenerys with it, each strike accompanied by a burst of words. "I don’t want Rhaella scarred by your carelessness! You have everything—a husband, a kingdom, children, and still, it's not enough?"
With every wail of her sandal, Missandei’s words struck deeper. Daenerys, cornered and overwhelmed, finally exclaimed, "I can’t control myself, Missy!"
"That’s no excuse!" Missandei snapped, though a hint of resignation crept into her voice, realizing her words might never fully reach her friend. "Just keep Rhaella out of this."
With those final words, Missandei stormed out of the bedroom, her departure marked by the slamming of the door. Left alone, Daenerys sank down amidst the tangle of luxurious pillows, her mind racing. Had her actions truly jeopardized everything she held dear? Was the fleeting satisfaction of her desires worth the potential fallout? As the room echoed with the heavy silence following Missandei's departure, Daenerys was left to ponder the magnitude of her decisions.
Chapter Text
Rhaella trembled under her blanket, her small body curled up tightly as the thunder roared ominously outside her chamber windows in the Red Keep. The fierce storm had begun just moments after her muna, Daenerys, and Missandei had kissed her goodnight, leaving her alone with the daunting sounds of nature's fury. The young girl felt the chill seep through the room, causing her to clutch her blanket closer, but it provided little comfort against the fear that clutched at her heart.
Her stuffed toy, a dragon named Syraxes, seemed to offer the only sense of security in the cold, echoing room. With a surge of brave determination unusual for her tender age, Rhaella slid out of bed, her small feet hitting the cold stone floor. She grabbed Syraxes, pressing him close to her chest as she tiptoed towards the door.
Peeking outside, she noticed the absence of Ser Bear, the loyal Kingsguard who was usually stationed at her door. In his place was a new guardian, Ser Gendry, a strong and silent type, known for his bravery and loyalty to her parents. The storm seemed a trivial matter to him as he sat, head bowed, likely deep in slumber. Rhaella knew if he were awake, he’d gently but firmly escort her back to bed, but tonight, fortune seemed to be in her favor, or so she thought.
With as much courage as she could muster, Rhaella quietly opened the door and slipped out into the dimly lit hallway of the castle. Her heart thudded painfully with each soft step she took, flinching with every thunderclap. The path to her parents’ room felt longer and more treacherous than ever before.
Upon reaching the ornate doors of her muna and kepa’s chamber, surprisingly unguarded tonight, she hesitated. Usually, Ser Bear would be there, a reassuring presence, but tonight his absence both puzzled and relieved her. Gaining a bit of courage, Rhaella pushed the doors open and closed them quickly behind her, seeking refuge from the storm.
The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of candlelight, but strange noises immediately caught her attention. Confused and curious, she moved closer to the bed, where the sounds seemed to emanate — grunts and moans that she couldn’t quite understand. Her young mind struggled to make sense of it, her innocence shielding her from the true nature of those sounds.
The soft golden glow of the candlelight barely illuminated the room, casting long, dancing shadows that flickered against the stone walls of the chamber. Rhaella, clutching her stuffed dragon Syraxes tightly, moved cautiously towards the familiar yet strangely alien noises that filled the room. Her small heart raced with a blend of curiosity and remnants of fear from the storm still raging outside.
As she rounded the corner of the bed, the sight before her eyes was confusing and startling. Her mother, Daenerys, was beneath Ser Jorah Mormont, both of them naked and entwined in a passionate embrace. Ser Jorah's muscular body moved rhythmically, and Daenerys moaned softly from the intense pleasure of their union. The sounds of their lovemaking had masked the noise of Rhaella entering, allowing her to approach unnoticed.
Rhaella, with wide eyes, navigated closer to the bed, drawn by a mix of confusion and the need for comfort. She observed her mother's swollen belly, the thought of a potential sibling briefly crossing her mind, adding a layer of innocence to the heavy atmosphere.
A loud clap of thunder shook the room once again, startling Rhaella and snapping her out of her trance. In a reflex of pure fright, she scrambled onto the bed, seeking the safety she longed for. The sudden movement jolted Daenerys and Ser Jorah out of their embrace. Daenerys, still catching her breath, reacted quickly, her maternal instincts kicking in despite the awkwardness of the situation.
"Rhaella! What are you doing here?!" Daenerys asked, her voice tinged with concern and a slight annoyance that her private moment had been disturbed. She swiftly pushed Ser Jorah, causing him to tumble onto the floor beside the bed with a thud.
Timidly, and almost feeling like she was in trouble, Rhaella responded, her voice barely above a whisper, "I was scared... of the thunder."
Daenerys’s expression softened immediately, shifting from the passionate lover to the protective mother in an instant. "Come here, my love," she cooed, opening her arms wide for her daughter. Rhaella didn’t hesitate; she quickly snuggled into her mother's embrace, burying her face into Daenerys’s warm, welcoming chest, finding the comfort she sought as they pulled the covers up around them.
"Syraxes was scared," Rhaella whispered softly to Dany, hugging her stuffed dragon even tighter.
"But she's a dragon, dragons can't be scared," Dany responded gently, stroking her daughter's hair reassuringly.
"But I was scared, does that mean I'm not a dragon?" Rhaella’s voice trembled a little, revealing her innocence and confusion.
"When you get big like Rhaenyra's Syraxes then you'll learn to be fearless," Dany explained patiently. "What did Kepa always say about fear?"
"You can't be brave until you learn to fear?"
"Precisely!" Dany beamed, ruffling her daughter's hair affectionately. Rhaella smiled back, her fear momentarily forgotten. However, another rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, causing Rhaella to scooch closer to her mother. "Don't worry, mama will protect you, okay?"
"Promise?"
"Promise, my sweet."
As they settled in, Rhaella felt the bed shift slightly, though none of them had moved. Then, her mother’s breathing grew heavier again. "Mama?" she called out softly.
"I'm here, sweet pea," Dany assured her, her voice a soothing balm.
"What were you and Ser Bear doing before?" Rhaella's curiosity couldn't be stifled.
Dany seemed to struggle with her focus, her face flushed as if caught in a trance. Suddenly, there was a gentle push from behind her. Her right hand clenched the sheets behind Rhaella tightly. "Wha- oh!" Dany squealed, momentarily caught off guard. "Me and Ser Bear were just—uhm, exercising! That's all," she managed to say, clearly flustered.
"Because mama is fat?" Rhaella asked naively, her question innocent yet direct.
"No no, sweetie, just—ah!" Dany was interrupted by a sudden sensation, forcing her to catch her breath. "Something to pass the time," she gasped lightly.
A forcible tremor seemed to run through Dany's body, causing her to bite her fist, stifling a moan. "Are you okay, mama?"
"I'm fine, sweetie. Why don't you go to sleep, okay? I'll be right here," Dany said, her eyes now tightly closed, her face a mask of mixed pleasure and restraint as her right hand sealed her mouth, muffling another moan.
Rhaella, still half-clinging to her mother yet now more confused than ever, nodded slowly, her eyes heavy with sleep and unanswered questions. As she drifted off, the storm outside seemed to mirror the storm of emotions and sensations swirling around the dimly lit room.
Jorah's heart pounded fiercely in his chest, the thrill of their secret liaison under the same roof as the sleeping child adding a layer of adrenaline to their forbidden activities. He pressed his body closer to Dany, their skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat as the storm outside provided a natural cover for their quiet moans.
His large, calloused hand cupped one of Dany's breasts, squeezing gently yet firmly as he felt the hardening nipple beneath his touch. His other hand wandered through her silver-gold unbraided hair, pulling her head back slightly to gain better access to her neck. He planted soft, wet kisses down her throat, each one a silent promise of his restrained desire.
The pace was slow, deliberate—each thrust deep and meaningful as he tried to maintain the delicate balance of pleasure without waking Rhaella. Dany turned her head to lock eyes with him, her expression a mixture of pleasure and caution. "**Be quiet,**" she whispered, her breath a hot whisper against his lips.
Their lips met in a desperate, muted kiss, Jorah's tongue gently probing hers as he continued to move within her. The sound of the rain and the occasional thunder masked the subtle creaking of the bed and their suppressed sighs. Dany's hand found its way to Jorah's cheek, holding him as if she could anchor herself from the waves of pleasure that threatened to make her moan aloud.
His rhythm remained slow, every movement calculated to maximize their pleasure while minimizing the noise. Each slow, deep thrust sent a ripple of pleasure through Dany, her body responding fervently beneath his touch. Jorah felt a surge of affection and lust intertwine, driving him to the brink of his control as he navigated their silent escapade.
Jorah's heart momentarily caught in his throat as Rhaella shifted in her sleep. When the little princess turned away, facing the opposite side of the bed, he and Dany took the silent cue to change their position. With a careful and practiced ease, Dany slowly lifted herself, allowing Jorah to gently roll onto his back without making a sound.
As Dany positioned herself atop him, Jorah could only marvel at the sight. The dim light of the stormy night cast shadows across her body, highlighting the curves and edges of her form in a soft, ethereal glow. She was a vision of clandestine beauty—her eyes heavy with desire, her lips parted slightly.
Jorah held his breath as Dany carefully mounted him, aligning themselves with painstaking caution. She placed her hands on his chest for balance, her fingers tracing the outline of his muscles subtly, sending shivers down his spine. Once secure, she began to move ever so slowly, grinding against him in a rhythm as controlled as it was torturous.
He watched, utterly captivated, as she rose and sank with an unhurried grace. Her breasts swayed gently with the motion, and the look on her face was one of deep focus mixed with undeniable pleasure. It was a dance of shadows and whispers, every movement calculated to keep their activities silent yet brimming with intensity.
Jorah gripped her hips gently but firmly, guiding her movements, synchronizing their pace to ensure maximum pleasure without any risk of waking Rhaella. The sensation of Dany sliding over him, combined with the visual feast of her body in motion, was an exquisite torture. He used every ounce of his willpower to suppress the groans that threatened to spill from his lips.
Their eyes met and held, a silent communication passing between them. In her gaze, he saw not just the queen he served, but the woman he loved, here in this stolen moment, finding solace and passion in each other's arms amidst the chaos of their lives. Amid the stillness and the soft sound of the storm, Jorah felt a connection that went beyond the physical, securing him to this woman, his queen, in ways words could never convey.
As the storm gradually subsided outside, the sounds of rain and wind giving way to a tense silence, the intimate atmosphere in the room deepened. Under the muted echo of the storm's retreat, Dany's struggle to maintain silence became even more crucial. Jorah watched with a blend of admiration and intense desire as she bit down on her lower lip, the effort to stifle her moans visible in the tight set of her jaw and the slight furrow of her brow.
Her free hand occasionally flew to her mouth, pressing against her lips as a particularly deep thrust coaxed a muffled whimper from her. Her silver-gold hair, usually so perfectly styled, now cascaded around her shoulders and back in a wild, tousled mane that bounced with each controlled, slow movement. The sight was unbearably erotic, the rawness of her appearance contrasting sharply with the usual regality Dany carried herself with.
Her breasts moved rhythmically with each subtle motion, the soft light playing over her skin highlighting the gentle curve of each breast and the hard peaks of her nipples. Jorah's hands ached to touch, to caress, but he held back, knowing any additional stimulation might break the careful sound barrier they upheld.
Her stomach, rounded with the gentle swell of pregnancy, bore the tender glow of maternity, shimmering faintly with sweat in the dim light. The soft undulations as she breathed, paired with the occasional flutter from the life within, sent a profound surge of affection and desire through Jorah. Watching her in this state, radiant and full of life, made it arduous for him to maintain his own composure.
Every detail of her in this moment—the way her hair framed her face, the desperate look in her eyes as she sought to remain quiet, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest—was etched into Jorah's mind, a testament to the intensity and the forbidden thrill of their encounter. As the natural sounds of the night returned, filling the space left by the storm, Jorah and Dany continued their silent ballet, a dance of love and desire played out under the cover of night's returning calm.
As their movements gradually built to a crescendo, the tension between control and release became almost unbearable. Dany's body began to tremble above him, her motions becoming less measured, more desperate. Jorah felt the swell of his own climax approaching, an inevitable force that demanded release. Together, they reached the edge, their bodies synchronized in their need.
With one final, deep grind, they both shuddered, the wave of orgasm washing over them. Dany's eyes clamped shut, a silent scream of release etched onto her beautiful face as her body spasmed in pleasure. Jorah bit his arm to muffle his own moan, his muscles tensing violently as he spilled into her, the ecstasy overwhelming in its intensity and silence.
After a moment of sheer, pulsating aftershocks, Dany hastily, yet gently, dismounted from him, her breath still heavy. She shooed Jorah away with a hurried wave of her hand, her cheeks flushed with post-orgasmic glow as she slipped off the bed to wash herself. Jorah, his heart still pounding from their shared release, quickly gathered his scattered clothes. He was about to head to the door, his cock still partially erect and swaying as he moved, when he froze. Rhaella was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and unmistakably awake.
Jorah’s face turned a deep shade of red, embarrassment flooding through him as he caught the young princess's gaze. Offering a bashful, apologetic smile, he shuffled towards the door, the awkwardness of the situation weighing heavily on him.
Once outside, the cool air of the hallway hit him, and the gravity of what might happen if Jon ever found out about this night loomed over him like a dark cloud. The thought of facing a painful punishment made his stomach churn. Despite the danger, a part of him whispered that the stolen moments with Dany were worth any consequence.
But for now, Jorah pushed these thoughts aside, focusing instead on the lingering warmth and satisfaction of their encounter, letting the future worry about itself as he made his way back to his own quarters.
Chapter Text
The first rays of sunlight slipped through the ornate windows, casting soft shadows across the royal chambers. Daenerys lay beside her sleeping husband, her heart racing as she watched Jorah silently enter through the hidden servant's door. Jon's deep, rhythmic breathing filled the room - even the Dothraki Sea itself could storm through their room and he'd simply roll over, lost in his impenetrable sleep.
With practiced silence, she slipped from beneath the covers, her nightgown whispering against her skin as she met her bear knight halfway. His rough hands found her waist, steadying her swollen form as their lips met in a desperate dance. The thrill of danger heightened every sensation - each touch electric, each breath a symphony of restrained passion.
She guided his head lower, biting her lip to stifle her moans as his mouth found her sensitive peaks through the thin silk. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body arching as his tongue worked its magic. The pregnancy had made her breasts impossibly sensitive, and Jorah knew exactly how to worship them. Jon shifted in his sleep, causing them both to freeze momentarily before resuming their forbidden encounter with even more careful restraint. Every risky moment, every suppressed sound, every stolen touch was made sweeter by the knowledge that mere feet away, her husband slumbered on, completely unaware of the passion unfolding in his own chambers.
The heavy velvet curtains concealed the intimate scene unfolding in the royal chambers. Jorah's weathered hands slipped beneath her silk robe, finding the soft curves of her flesh. The sharp sound of his palm meeting her rear echoed softly through the room, yet Jon's deep breathing remained undisturbed.
"My heart, my soul, my Queen," Jorah whispered between fervent kisses, his voice thick with emotion. His hands explored her body with reverent dedication, each touch a silent prayer of devotion. "I love you, I have always loved you." His words spilled forth like honey, sweet and desperate, filling the space between their shared breaths.
Daenerys remained silent, responding only with soft gasps and the arch of her body. The weight of his declarations hung heavy in the air, unanswered. Her fingers traced the scars on his chest, her touch both an acceptance and a denial of his proclamations. There was affection in her caresses, yes, but not the kind he yearned for - not the consuming love he professed with such earnest devotion. Still, she pulled him closer, letting his passion wash over her as the morning light crept ever higher in the sky.
Daenerys lay back against the silk sheets, her silver hair fanning out like a halo. Her swollen belly rose prominently as her chest heaved with each careful breath. Jorah knelt before her like a devoted worshipper at an altar, his tongue working with practiced precision.
"Mmmmh... oh... yes..." she whispered, barely audible above Jon's steady breathing. Her fingers gripped the sheets, knuckles white with tension. "Ah... ah..." Every sound was carefully measured, a delicate balance between pleasure and discretion. The wet sounds of his devoted attention mixed with her restrained whimpers.
Her thighs trembled around his head as he continued his ministrations, her toes curling against his broad shoulders. "Nnngh... please..." she breathed, one hand moving to tangle in his hair, guiding him exactly where she needed. Her back arched slightly off the bed, careful not to disturb the mattress too much as waves of pleasure coursed through her body.
Jorah's experienced hand moved higher, finding that sensitive spot as his tongue maintained its rhythm. His calloused finger circled teasingly before slowly pressing inward, drawing a sharp gasp from Daenerys that she quickly muffled against her arm. The intrusion, combined with his skilled tongue, had her writhing in silent ecstasy.
"Shhh..." he breathed against her thigh, pausing momentarily as Jon shifted in his sleep. His finger pressed deeper, expertly working in tandem with his mouth. The dual sensation overwhelmed her senses, forcing her to bite down on her lip to maintain their precious secrecy.
Her body responded instantly to the added stimulation, inner walls clenching as pleasure built rapidly. Sweat beaded on her skin as she fought to keep still, her pregnant belly rising and falling with each carefully controlled breath. The forbidden nature of their acts only heightened every sensation, making her usual self-control waver dangerously.
Their foreheads pressed together, sharing heated breaths as Jorah's fingers worked relentlessly between her thighs. Dany's hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his tunic. Her whole body trembled with the effort of keeping quiet, even as his skilled digits curled inside her with increasing urgency.
"I can't... I'm going to..." she whimpered against his lips, her eyes wild with desperate need. Jon's sleeping form cast a shadow in the dim morning light, adding a thrilling edge of danger to their liaison. Jorah's free hand tangled in her silver hair, holding her steady as she rode his fingers with abandon.
The tension built to an unbearable crescendo, and just as Dany's mouth opened in a silent scream, Jorah captured her lips with his own. Her release flooded over his hand, dripping onto the rich bedding below and spattering the stone floor. Her body convulsed against him as he swallowed her cries, his fingers gentling but not stopping until the last tremor had passed through her swollen body.
The chamber door clicked shut behind them as they spilled into the hallway, their passion barely contained. Dany's hands guided Jorah's head to her breasts, which had grown heavy and sensitive with her pregnancy. His mouth found her nipple through the thin silk, drawing a muffled moan from her lips as he suckled with desperate need.
The early morning silence was broken only by their labored breathing and the wet sounds of Jorah's devoted attention, until the distinct echo of approaching footsteps sent them scrambling. Dany pressed herself against an alcove, Jorah's body shielding her from view, both hearts racing with the thrill of possible discovery.
The tension in their bodies eased at the sight of Missandei's familiar form rounding the corner. Without missing a beat, Jorah returned to his feast, his beard scratching deliciously against Dany's sensitive flesh as his tongue laved at her peaks. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him closer even as she prepared to address her most trusted handmaiden.
"Your Grace," Missandei's voice carried equal parts exasperation and concern, watching the early morning debauchery unfold. "The servants will begin their rounds soon, and here you are, conducting yourself like a common..." Her words faltered as Dany deliberately grabbed Jorah's face from her breast, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues danced visible between parted lips, Dany's fingers tangling in his hair while his hands kneaded her swollen breasts.
"Like a what exactly, dear friend?" Dany purred, breaking the kiss with a wet sound. She guided Jorah's eager mouth back to her nipple, gasping as he resumed his feast with renewed vigor. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak while his teeth grazed the tender flesh. "Like a woman who knows what she desires before breakfast?" Her voice hitched as he switched to her other breast, his beard leaving red marks across her pale skin.
"Your husband lies just beyond that door," Missandei persisted, though her own breathing had grown uneven watching the display. "You carry his child, and yet here you are, letting your Bear feast upon you in the open corridor like..." Once again, Dany cut her off by claiming Jorah's mouth. This time she made it a show, moaning loudly into the kiss as her hands roamed his chest. Their lips parted with an obscene pop, a string of saliva connecting them before breaking.
"Like what, Missandei? Like a dragon in heat?" Dany challenged, her eyes dark with lust as Jorah's mouth returned to worship her breasts. His hands slid down to cup her ass, pulling her closer as he suckled greedily. "Perhaps you'd prefer I suppress my needs? Become some proper, demure queen who waits patiently for her husband to wake?" She emphasized her point by grinding against Jorah's obvious arousal, making him groan around her nipple.
"Come now Missandei, surely you can't expect a dragon to be tamed so easily," Dany purred, finally pulling away from Jorah's devoted mouth. His lips were swollen from their kisses, his beard glistening with evidence of his worship. She made a show of slowly adjusting her dress, watching his eyes darken further at each deliberate movement.
"Though I suppose I should see to my other appetites," she added with wicked amusement, taking the breakfast tray from her flustered handmaiden. The dishes clinked as her body still trembled from Jorah's attention. She turned to her Bear, whose chest heaved with barely contained desire. "Until later, Ser Jorah," she whispered, letting her tongue deliberately wet her lips.
The rising sun cast long shadows through the corridor windows as Dany sauntered toward her chambers, making sure both Jorah and Missandei caught the sway of her hips. Behind her, she could feel Jorah's hungry gaze following her every move, while Missandei stood caught between exasperation and grudging acceptance of her Queen's untameable nature.
Jorah's muscles ached from standing guard, but every word from within the chamber commanded his attention. The morning's passionate encounter still burned fresh in his mind as the royal couple's voices grew heated.
"You can't keep dismissing the Iron Bank's envoys," Jon's voice carried clear frustration. "We need their gold to rebuild-"
"I will not mortgage our kingdom's future to those vultures," Dany cut in, that dangerous edge to her voice that Jorah knew too well. "Not when they refused to aid us against the dead. Now that we've won, they come crawling back with their usurious terms?"
"The crown's coffers are depleted, Dany. The reconstruction of King's Landing, the aid to the North-"
"Then we'll find another way. The Reach is fertile again, trade is resuming with the Free Cities. I won't have our people in debt to Braavos for generations because they chose to wait out our war with death itself."
"We can't rebuild alone-"
"We survived the Long Night, Jon Snow. We'll survive this too, but not by bending to every banker who comes knocking."
Jorah heard Jon's approaching footsteps and straightened. The door opened with more force than necessary, the King's face tight with barely contained frustration. Their eyes met briefly as Jon passed, weighted with the endless challenge of rebuilding a war-torn realm.
From within, he could hear Dany's movements, could picture her bristling with all the fury of her house. When her steps brought her near the threshold, the lingering scent of their morning encounter made his body tighten with anticipation.
Jon's retreating footsteps echoed down the corridor, each step punctuated by the whisper of his cloak against stone. His sideways glance carried volumes - suspicion, resignation, perhaps even a flash of understanding. The North might have taught Jon Snow many things, but the intricacies of dragon's fire still eluded him.
Jorah's hand had barely grazed the bronze doorknob when the heavy door flew open. The scent of her hit him first - that intoxicating mixture of jasmine oil and raw desire that had lingered on his beard mere hours ago. Dany stood before him, silver-gold hair tumbling free from its earlier careful arrangement, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Her eyes blazed with that particular hunger that made his blood surge - the look of a dragon denied its prey.
Before he could speak, her small hands fisted in his leather jerkin, yanking him into her chambers with surprising strength. The force of her need nearly knocked him off balance as she pulled him past the threshold. The door slammed behind them, the sound echoing through the royal chambers like a war drum, matching the thundering of his heart.
"My Queen," he managed to rasp, but the words were swallowed by her mouth claiming his, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip with delicious fury. The taste of her - sweet wine and untamed fire - flooded his senses as she pressed against him, her body radiating heat through the thin silk of her dress.
Her sudden yank surprised him as she guided him backward, his knees hitting the ornate bedframe. His body yielded to her push, sinking onto the plush furs covering the foot of the bed. The morning light streaming through the high windows cast a golden glow on her silver hair as she knelt before him, her swollen belly a testament to her fertility.
Her fingers worked with desperate need at his laces, freeing him from the confines of his breeches.
"Let me please you, my bear," she whispered hungrily.
Before he could draw breath, her hot mouth engulfed him completely.
"Seven hells, Khaleesi!"
The wet heat of her throat surrounded him as she took him to the root, her nose pressed against his body. Rivers of saliva flowed from her stretched lips, soaking into the fabric beneath.
gluk gurk gack hnnngh glrk
His hand found purchase in her hair, holding her in place as she struggled for air.
"That's it, take your bear's cock!”
Tears gathered in her violet eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she fought against her body's natural reflexes. Her throat convulsed around him, drawing desperate whimpers from deep in her chest.
"By the gods, such a hungry little dragon," he groaned.
Still, she made no move to pull away, submitting completely to his grip as her face began to flush from lack of air.
His iron grip kept her head buried against his groin, her nose pressed into the coarse hair at the base of his thick shaft.
"Take it all, my queen," he commanded hoarsely.
She struggled for air, her throat convulsing around his length as panic set in. Her palms slapped frantically against his muscular thighs, the sound echoing through the chamber, but he remained unmoved.
"Such a good little dragon," he growled.
Lost in the depths of his lust, he placed his flat palm against the back of her head and began striking it rhythmically, forcing her to take him impossibly deeper. Each impact drove his cock further down her spasming throat, her nose repeatedly crushed against his pelvis. Her desperate slaps against his thighs only seemed to fuel his frenzy, his hips bucking wildly as his release approached. Only when her trembling fingers found his sac, squeezing and twisting with all her remaining strength, did his iron grip finally falter.
The sudden pain mixed with pleasure pushed him over the edge just as she wrenched away.
"Gods, Khaleesi!" he roared as his release erupted in powerful spurts, arcing through the air as she fell backward.
She landed sprawled on the rich Myrish carpet at the foot of the bed, gulping in desperate breaths.
"Look what you've done to your queen," she gasped hoarsely.
His seed painted patterns across her silk dress, the expensive fabric now clinging obscenely to her curves. More of his essence dripped from her lips and chin, mixing with the tracks of her tears and smeared kohl that ran down her cheeks. Her face was a masterpiece of debauchery - streaked with black tears and glistening wetness, her lips swollen and red from their forceful use.
The sounds of life continued beyond the chamber walls - servants hurrying past, guards changing shifts, the endless bustle of castle life. Any of them could enter, finding their queen sprawled on the floor in such a state, her bear knight standing over her with his manhood still jutting proudly from the gap in his armor. The thought seemed to excite her more, her violet eyes blazing with renewed hunger as she gazed up at him through tear-dampened lashes.
"I'm not finished with you yet, my bear. Your queen needs that thick cock inside her properly now" she rasped, her voice raw from the brutal usage of her throat. "But before I take that magnificent cock inside me, there's something I've been aching to do." Her eyes glittered with mischief. "Remove your armor, Ser. All of it. Then get on the bed for your queen."
She watched intently as he stripped away each piece of plate and mail, her tongue darting out to wet her lips at the sight of his muscled form being revealed. When he was fully naked, his cock standing proud, she guided him to position himself on all fours at the edge of the bed.
"Perfect," she purred, admiring the view of his exposed rear and heavy cock hanging between his thighs. "Now stay just like that for your queen."
She moved behind him with fluid grace, her small hands gripping his muscled cheeks. With a hungry growl, she spread him wide, exposing his most intimate place.
"I've wanted to taste you here for so long, my bear," she purred before spitting deliberately on his puckered entrance.
Her hot tongue pressed flat against him, drawing a shocked gasp from his throat. His cock twitched heavily between his legs as she began to devour him with the same passion she showed for everything else she desired.
"Gods, Khaleesi," he groaned, his arms trembling as her skilled tongue circled and probed. The thought that she might have learned such arts in Meereen made his cock throb with jealous need.
Her delicate hands wrapped around his length from below, working him with practiced strokes as she continued her hungry assault. His essence mixed with her dripping saliva, coating her fingers as they glided along his shaft.
"Does my bear like his queen's tongue?" she teased, before diving back in with renewed vigor, her tongue now pressing insistently against his tight ring. "So many nights I dreamt of claiming my bear this way," she purred before spitting deliberately on his puckered entrance. The musky, masculine scent of him filled her senses, making her mouth water with need.
Her hot tongue pressed flat against his tight ring, drawing a shocked gasp from his throat. His rich, earthy taste made her moan as she lapped eagerly, her tongue probing deeper with each pass. His cock twitched heavily between his legs as she began to devour him with ravenous intensity, her tongue now pushing past the tight resistance to explore his depths.
"Seven hells... where did my innocent queen learn such wicked arts?" he groaned, his arms trembling as her skilled tongue circled and thrust. The image of her practicing these talents in Meereen made his cock throb with possessive need.
Her delicate hands wrapped around his length from below, working him with practiced strokes as she continued her hungry assault. His essence mixed with her dripping saliva, coating her fingers as they glided along his shaft. She buried her face deeper between his cheeks, her tongue now fully penetrating his tight passage as she feasted on his most private place.
"Your queen will have all of you tonight, my bear," she growled against his sensitive flesh before plunging her tongue back inside him, tasting his deepest reaches.
Jorah's entire body trembled as his queen's wicked tongue probed deeper, her hands working his shaft with increasing urgency. Every thrust of her hot tongue sent jolts of pleasure through his core, his cock growing impossibly harder in her skilled grip.
"Khaleesi... I... I can't..." he gasped, his muscles tensing as the overwhelming sensations built to a peak. Her response was to double her efforts, her tongue fucking into him faster while her hands squeezed and stroked his throbbing length with perfect pressure.
His release hit him like dragonfire, his whole body shuddering as thick ropes of his seed erupted onto the sheets below. Still she didn't stop, her tongue continuing its relentless assault as he pulsed and spilled, drawing out his pleasure until he collapsed forward with a hoarse cry, his strong frame quivering with aftershocks.
Her serpentine tongue darted and probed into his tight entrance with expert precision, drawing out moans from deep in his chest. When she finally withdrew, she left a stinging slap across his muscled cheek that echoed through the chamber.
"On your back, my bear," she commanded, her voice thick with desire. "Your queen means to ride you properly now." She began unlacing her gown with trembling fingers. "Touch yourself for me. Let me see how hard you remain for your queen."
His large hand wrapped around his length as she shed the last of her garments, revealing her full glory. Her alabaster skin seemed to glow in the candlelight, her breasts fuller now with impending motherhood. Her swollen belly was a perfect dome, stretched tight and marked with silvery lines like dragon scales. Her silver-gold hair was disheveled from his rough handling of her throat earlier, her carefully applied kohl now smeared down her cheeks. Her face was flushed and messy, glistening with a mixture of saliva and the remnants of her eager rimming of his hole. Even in this debauched state, heavily pregnant and marked by their previous activities, she moved with regal grace, her hips swaying as she positioned herself above him.
She braced herself against the headboard, her thighs trembling with anticipation as she lowered her glistening folds toward his waiting mouth.
Dany straddled Jorah's face, her swollen belly casting shadows over him as she lowered her dripping sex to his eager mouth. Her fingers tangled in his graying hair as she ground herself against his tongue. Above him, her belly rippled visibly with movement.
"Oh!" she gasped, part pleasure from his skilled mouth, part surprise at the strong kick within her. "Your future prince or princess seems quite active, my bear." She guided his hands to her rounded stomach, letting him feel the movement while continuing to feast between her thighs.
His deep groan vibrated against her sensitive flesh as he devoured her with increasing fervor. The dual sensations of her child's movement and her knight's talented tongue soon had her writhing. "Yes... right there!" she cried out, her thighs beginning to tremble. Suddenly she tensed, crying out as her release flooded forth uncontrollably, bathing his eager face in her sweet nectar. He drank deeply of her essence, not wasting a drop as wave after wave crashed over him.
She collapsed forward, bracing herself against the headboard as aftershocks wracked her body, her juices still flowing freely onto his waiting tongue
Jorah's face was a magnificent mess - his beard and mouth glistened with her previous releases, his face flushed and streaked with her squirt. His eyes were glazed with lust, his hair matted with sweat and her juices. Both of them were marked thoroughly by their passionate exchange - her face and chest sticky with his seed from earlier, his face and chest drenched from her releases, both of their mouths and chins slick and shining in the sunlight.
"I need you inside me now," she demanded, positioning herself above him with practiced ease, her thighs trembling with anticipation.
In one fluid motion, she sank down onto his length, taking him completely. "You fill me so perfectly," she gasped, their shared moans echoing through the chamber as their bodies joined, her warmth enveloping him entirely. Her belly pressed against his abdomen as she settled.
"My queen," he breathed reverently, his hands finding her hips. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, steadying her as she began to move.
She rolled her hips slowly, savoring the feeling of him deep inside her, her swollen belly brushing against his abs with each movement.
Their fingers intertwined as she used his strength for leverage, establishing a rhythm that had them both crying out in pleasure.
"Yes, just like that," she encouraged between moans. The wet sounds of their coupling filled the air, accompanied by the steady slap of flesh meeting flesh. Her breasts swayed with each movement, beads of sweat forming between them and trailing down to where their bodies met.
"Look at me," she commanded, and the sight of her above him, head thrown back in ecstasy, silver hair cascading down her back, was enough to make his cock pulse inside her.
The bed creaked beneath them, adding its voice to their symphony of pleasure.
"You feel so good, my queen," he groaned, voice rough with desire. Her movements grew more determined, more demanding, as she chased her satisfaction. Each downward thrust drew a deep grunt from his chest, while her ascending movements pulled whimpering moans from her throat.
"That's it, don't stop," she commanded breathlessly. Her inner walls clenched around him with increasing frequency, her body preparing for another release.
His eyes traced every curve of her form as she moved above him.
"You're so beautiful like this," he whispered reverently, drinking in the sight of her transformed body. Her breasts, heavy with milk, swayed hypnotically with each bounce.
"Touch them," she ordered. Occasional drops escaped her rosy nipples, falling onto his chest. Her rounded belly gleamed with sweat in the dim light.
"I would love to seeing you carrying our child," he confessed between ragged breaths.
Sensing her approaching peak, she shifted her position, her small feet planting firmly on either side of his hips.
"I'm so close," she panted. The new angle allowed her to take control completely, and she used it to devastating effect.
"Yes, yes!" she cried out as her movements became wild, almost feral. The wet sounds of their coupling grew louder, matching the intensity of their shared moans.
"Come for me, my bear," she demanded, her fingers digging into his chest, leaving crescent marks in his skin as she worked herself against him.
Their release built simultaneously. "Fill me, Jorah, please!" she begged between gasps. When it finally broke over them, her inner walls clamped down on him.
"My queen!" he roared as her cry of pleasure mingled with his deep groan, echoing off the stone walls. "I can feel you throbbing inside me," she whimpered as her body trembled above him.
He pulled out slowly, watching their combined fluids flow from her well-used opening. His cock remained hard, glistening with the evidence of their passion. "Look how wet you've made me," he growled, his hand stroking his length. The sight of her sprawled before him, flushed and satisfied yet still wanting more, made his blood burn hotter. Her thighs were spread wide, inviting him to take her again, differently this time.
"I'm not finished with you yet," he growled, gripping her shoulders and flipping her onto her back, her silver hair fanning across the bed.
"Yes, take what you want," she encouraged breathlessly as he lifted her legs over his shoulders. Her pregnant belly rose between them like a mountain of flesh.
"Please," she whimpered as the new angle exposed her other entrance.
Without hesitation, he drove himself into her tight passage. "Gods, you're so tight," he grunted, feeling her body resist then yield to his invasion. His fingers found their way to her soaking sex, spreading her open to reveal her swollen pearl.
"More, give me more," she demanded between sharp gasps, her back arching off the bed. Each push forward had her crying out, her fingers clutching desperately at the sheets beneath them.
"You take me so well," he praised as the dual penetration had her writhing beneath him.
"Oh gods, yes! Fuck me harder!" she screamed as his thrusts intensified.
The sight of her impaled on his length, combined with the way her inner walls gripped his probing fingers, drove him wild with lust. His thrusts became more forceful, more primal, each one drawing a symphony of moans from her throat.
"I'm going to fill you completely," he growled. Her breasts bounced with each impact, drops of milk beading at her nipples.
"Yes! Yes! Give it to me!" she cried out as she felt his cock pulse inside her. "Fill me up, my bear!" The wet sounds of their coupling echoed through the chamber, punctuated by their shared screams of ecstasy as his release triggered her own intense climax.
"Taste what you've done to me," she purred as his seed filled her forbidden channel. She reached down between them, gathering their combined essence as it leaked from her thoroughly claimed hole. "Mmm," she hummed around her fingers, making a show of cleaning them while holding his gaze. Her tongue darted out to catch every drop, pink and eager against her pale skin. "You taste divine, my bear," she whispered seductively, her free hand trailing down to gather more of their mingled fluids.
The sight of his seed marking both her holes, combined with her wanton display, made his spent cock twitch with renewed interest.
"Perhaps," she suggested with a knowing smile, "we're not quite finished after all."
With a fluid movement, he seized control - one powerful arm wrapping around her waist from behind while the other hooked under her knees. In one smooth motion, he lifted and folded her body, pressing her back firmly against his chest as his arms hooked under her legs and pinned them up. Her ankles dangled helplessly by her ears as he held her suspended, completely at his mercy. Her arms hung uselessly at her sides as he pressed his thick length against her puckered entrance.
"You're going to take every inch in this tight hole," he growled, his muscular arms keeping her folded and trapped against him. Her pregnant belly was compressed between her thighs as he slowly pushed into her forbidden passage, the position leaving her utterly powerless to resist his penetration. Each thrust drove deeper, her body completely controlled by his strength as he took what he wanted.
"Oh gods, you're stretching me so wide," she gasped.
His pace was relentless, each thrust into her ass driving deeper than the last.
"You're gripping me like a vice," he growled, watching her face contort with pleasure-pain. Her breasts bounced wildly, milk spraying with each impact as he claimed her thoroughly.
"Yes! Yes! Destroy my ass!" she screamed as he pounded into her tight channel. The obscene sounds of his cock plundering her rear entrance filled the chamber, along with their shared moans and the slap of flesh meeting flesh. Her inner walls clenched around him rhythmically as another orgasm approached.
"Fill my ass!" she demanded as his thrusts became erratic.
"I'm going to flood this tight hole," he warned through gritted teeth.
"Do it! Mark me inside!" she cried out. With a roar, he buried himself to the hilt in her ass, his release flooding her depths. As she felt his seed painting her forbidden walls, a sudden gush of warm fluid soaked the sheets beneath them.
"You're squirting so hard for me," he growled approvingly, his fingers finding her dripping pussy and rubbing furiously.
Her screams of pleasure turned to gasps of surprise as another wave of fluid gushed forth. "No, Jorah... wait... it's not... GODS!" she tried to warn him between involuntary moans, but he was too lost in his desire to notice. His fingers worked her clit relentlessly as more amniotic fluid rushed out, mixing with their combined juices.
The pressure of his continued thrusts in her ass combined with his merciless fingering had her caught between pleasure and panic as her labor began.
"Jorah, stop! The baby... it's coming!" she cried out, but her words were lost in his primal growl as his fingers worked her sensitive flesh even harder.
"That's it, let it all out," he demanded, misinterpreting her body's signals. His thick cock continued to pound her ass mercilessly while his fingers drove deep into her soaking channel. More fluid gushed around his hand with each thrust.
"Please... I can't... GODS!" she screamed as another intense orgasm crashed through her, her body betraying her as pleasure mixed with the mounting pressure of labor. Her asshole clenched violently around his pulsing length.
"JORAH, STOP!" Dany screamed, her voice filled with genuine panic. Her body trembled as another contraction hit, more fluid gushing from between her legs.
But lost in his primal need, he slammed into her one final time with a roar, flooding her ass with another load of hot seed. The force of his final thrusts combined with the pressure of labor caused her abused hole to prolapse slightly as he withdrew.
"Dany?" he asked, concern finally breaking through his lust-filled haze as he moved from between her legs. His eyes widened as he took in the full situation - the soaked sheets, her labored breathing, her trembling form, her thoroughly destroyed entrance pink and puffy.
"Get the Maester, NOW!" she commanded through gritted teeth, her voice carrying all the authority of a queen despite her compromised position. "The baby's coming - HURRY!"
He hesitated for just a moment, torn between staying with her and following her command.
"GO!" she screamed as another contraction ripped through her body, spurring him into action.
Jorah stood rigid outside the chamber door, his white cloak now properly fastened but his mind in turmoil. An hour had passed since the birth, and every second without Jon's arrival was both a blessing and a curse. His thoughts drifted to their passionate encounter - the way she'd begged for him, how she'd taken him so completely. But now, in the sobering aftermath, reality crashed around him.
When he'd rushed to fetch Maester Ebrose, the scene he'd left behind had been damning - his queen sprawled on the bed, her holes leaking his seed, her abused asshole prolapsed and swollen into a deep pink rosebud. Her breasts were coated in dried milk, trails of it running down her ribs, and her carefully applied cosmetics had smeared across her face from their rough coupling. The sheets beneath her were soaked with their combined fluids and amniotic waters. The maester's face had remained professionally neutral upon seeing Daenerys's condition, though Jorah knew the evidence of their depraved encounter was impossible to miss. Her dismissive silence when Ebrose asked him to leave had cut deeper than any sword. Only her pained calls for Jon had echoed in the chamber as he'd backed away.
Now he stood guard, his heart pounding with each approaching footstep in the corridor. If Jon discovered what had transpired... if he saw the state of the bed or noticed the lingering scent of their passion... Jorah's life would be forfeit. And Daenerys - his beloved queen - would not speak in his defense. He whispered desperate prayers to any god who would listen, knowing full well he deserved whatever punishment awaited him.
For what seemed like the longest time, Dany's screams subsided. Servants bustled in and out, barely registering in Jorah's anxiety-addled mind. Soon, the sound of multiple armored footsteps approached - Ser Brienne of Tarth, Ser Podrick Payne, and Ser Davos Seaworth escorting King Jon and the little Princess Rhaella down the hallway. Jorah stood at attention, his heart thundering in his chest, but Jon swept past without a glance, leading his daughter into the chamber. The other knights took their positions silently, maintaining the stoic formality expected of the Kingsguard, though Jorah noticed Brienne's questioning glance at his disheveled appearance.
Through the partially open door, he caught glimpses of the scene within. The chamber had been transformed - fresh linens on the bed, the soiled carpet removed, and Daenerys reclined in a clean silk nightgown, all evidence of their earlier transgression erased. She cradled a dark-haired babe to her breast while Jon sat beside her, one arm around her shoulders and the other helping little Rhaella climb onto the bed for a better look at her new brother.
Their faces glowed with joy, a perfect family portrait that made his stomach twist with guilt. For the first time in his life, Ser Jorah Mormont knew with absolute certainty that he deserved a traitor's death. He had betrayed not just his king, but the sacred trust of the woman he'd sworn to protect, defiling her in her most vulnerable moment. As he watched Jon tenderly kiss his wife's forehead while little Rhaella peered curiously at her new brother, Jorah silently accepted that whatever punishment the gods chose for him - be it discovery and execution, or living with this burning shame - he had earned it all, and more.
